


Just Friends

by lextenou



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Community: Kim Possible Slash Haven, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Future Fic, Kim Possible Is Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:03:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: They're just friends. That's all it is. Friends do these things. They notice these details about each other. There's nothing odd about it. It was improbable enough for them to have become friends in the first place, there's definitely nothing further going on.





	Just Friends

We're just good friends.

That's what everyone sees because that's all there is. If it wasn't for me, she'd have never thought of extorting from Big Business. They've always been bigger crooks than she ever hoped to be. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have had the courage to form my own organization out of the ashes of what came before. Now we can actually make a serious difference instead of constantly playing mop up games. If I'd wanted to do that, I'd have become a janitor.

She always looks good. Always has, even when all she wore was that hideous one piece thing. It really didn't do anything for her. Of course, I may be biased - now we do a lot of clothes shopping together. She introduced me to the secret of shopping Black Friday sales without getting mauled. That only worked until I surprised her with the big screen TV. They only had two at the store at that price, I _had_ to get there the night before. I was second in line and we both had energy drinks. The guy who was six people back tried to cut in front of me - oh, the way he'd been beaten. They actually hauled him off in handcuffs for disturbing the peace. No Xbox for him.

She still fights as well as she ever did. She'd never be able to crack the security she does if she didn't. She's smart, too. Incredibly smart. It freaked me out one day to hear her going on about structural engineering - we'd had a lunch date and I showed up a bit early. Her last meeting before lunch was running long. The security chief from the thinly veiled Mafiya front was arguing that her analysis of the building's vulnerabilities was extortion. The guy looked like his name should be Vanya, with a head that grew directly out of his shoulders. She didn't even blink twice when he called her thief outright. She was leaning back in her chair, smiling slightly, the fingers of her left hand tapping lightly on the desk. He continued to fling insults at her, switching back and forth between English and Russian. I think he tossed in French, too. Finally, she stood, his words cut off at her abrupt movement.

I don't know what she told him. I know it was guttural Russian spoken in sharp, clear tones. Whatever she said, he didn't like it at all. He moved to step toward her. She didn't move, continuing to smile. His foot lifted from the floor and she spoke again, her voice snapping out sharply in words I didn't recognize. He recoiled as though struck and beat a hasty retreat, almost bowling my eavesdropping butt out of my chair.

She didn't watch him leave, her eyes dropping to her desk and flipping through a couple papers. It wasn't until after he was out of sight, on his way down to the lobby in an elevator, that she raised her head and met my blatantly curious gaze. Something I didn't know how to identify lurked in her bright green gaze as she watched me rise from my seat. I shoved aside the oddity and raised an eyebrow at her, silently inviting and challenging her to come with me. 

We had a great lunch that day. I don't remember the details of it. I remember flashes, emotions that ran through me. I'd often seen her play with a fork as she ate, and that day was no different. I'd frequently taken note of the shine of her hair beneath different lighting - the soft warmth of the restaurant's lights set off the hidden highlights of her hair magnificently. I'd known for a long while that I adored watching her. That day was no different from innumerable others.

I tell these things to remind myself. To bring them back to my mind and show that, really, it wasn't as unexpected as I thought.

Not like when she told me she'd decided to form her extortion company. I call it extortion, but really, it's a completely legitimate business. They pay her to figure out how to break in and she charges them exorbitant fees. Frequently, she's able to reduce their vulnerability to the point where breaking in is prohibitively expensive, either monetarily or time-wise, or a function of human error. She can't fix stupidity, after all. Especially not with who she used to work with...ugh. It was always impossibly stupid with him.

Not like with her. With her, it's elegant and beautiful and simple. 

We're just friends. That's all. 

I have to keep reminding myself of that. There's nothing more than friendship there. Nothing. I'd be foolish to think anything else could be. Friends. Just good, good friends.

She came over about a week ago. Slept over, actually. We'd both had a bit too much to drink and made snarky comments about the movies and shows we watched. Mystery Science Theater of two, tearing down ancient reruns of Seinfeld. We'd watched Friends and she'd snatched the remote from me midway through - the Thanksgiving episode where they play football, so I'd given her a bit of a wrestling match before I gave it up - and changed to a British show where a trio of guys were ranting about the Melty Man in a pub. Pouting, I'd gone to get us fresh drinks and on the way back, I'd paused for a breath, just watching her for an interminable moment. She had to know I watched her constantly. I'd seen her keeping an eye on me surreptitiously. I didn't bother to hide my watching - why should I? We're just friends. I'm allowed to watch my friends.

After I'd stopped staring at her and returned to my seat on the couch, she'd adjusted me and flopped her feet on my lap. Her attention was fully on the TV and I wasn't about to make her move or start massaging, so I used her legs as an armrest instead. It was really comfortable.

She bunked in my guest room. She was a major reason why I kept up a two bedroom apartment. I certainly didn't need the extra space. I'd have been fine in a studio. 

Of course, if I had a studio, then she'd either have had to sleep on my couch or in my bed. 

In the morning, I made eggs. I didn't make them often - I preferred one of the organic fruit and nut bars instead. Those things were addictive, especially that apple pie one. I made them for her, though. I kept a coffee maker because of her, too. Just me, I'd have stayed with instant.

Maybe I first started suspecting when she blew on her coffee that morning. Probably not, though. I'm sure I'd had the sneaking suspicion for ages. I do remember how I felt to see her blow on that coffee, though. She was gorgeous. Absolutely magnificent. Her eyes were partially closed, still cloudy with the remnants of a satisfying sleep. Her lips were slightly open to allow her to blow on the scorchingly hot coffee, her agile tongue sweeping out to moisten her full lips. Long fingers curled lovingly around the coffee mug I kept specifically for her - all black, ceramic, sixteen ounces. As the full aroma blasted her right in the face, her eyes closed, her nose twitching as she inhaled the rich scent. 

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

My heart seized in my chest and I tried desperately to control my breathing as my entire body shook. It was an odd reaction, this, one I was unfamiliar with. 

My hand tightened around my mug and took a slow, deliberate drink, allowing the burn to ream my throat as my existence had been by the dawning realization that washed over me.

I couldn't hide it from myself anymore after that. Reminding myself that we're just friends is the only way I've been able to make it through. 

We're friends.

She doesn't lay staring at the ceiling for half the night, mind whirling with thoughts of me, wondering what it would feel like to hold me. She doesn't find herself having to re-read reports because she got distracted by thoughts of whether I would laugh at a dumb joke. Under no circumstances does she find herself almost missing a crucial bit of work because she's been so busy remembering the way my hair shone under the sunlight when we walked through the park the other day.

She doesn't think of me that way. 

We are just friends.

I blew out a long, irritated sigh. 

It doesn't matter how often I say it. It doesn't matter how much I remind myself of the truth. I still ache for more.

If I keep acting like this, she's going to figure it out. 

She's flying back in from her latest job tonight. I invited her over before she left, so she'd be able to decompress before having to debrief her staff. She's the boss, she has to have some kind of relaxation at some point. 

If it meant I'd also get a chance to be around her, hey, no big loss there.

The jangle of keys at my door turns my head and I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face. I don't really want to try to, either. She shoulders the door open and pulls her overnight bag in with her. Her tired face lifts and I can see her smile light up, starting around her eyes and spreading. 

She's mussed from travel, most likely exhausted, and probably still has some lingering irritation from having to deal with some kind of idiot. 

She's beautiful.

"Hey."

God, the things her voice does to me. I lean against the back of my couch, smiling like a damned fool at her. "Hey yourself. How'd it go?"

She grimaces, the door closing quietly behind her. She flips the lock and sets her bag down before shrugging out of her jacket. "Morons. I'll be able to fund through the rest of the year on what I'm going to be able to charge them."

I can't help it. I laugh. "Are you adding in a stupid tax?"

"Ah, ah!" She waves a hand dismissively in the air as she moves to the kitchen. "You know damned well it's a 'consultancy fee'." She digs in the fridge for a moment before rising with her prize, a bottle of strawberry yogurt drink. She takes a long pull from the bottle before turning to look at me. "How'd your project end up?"

She's more tired than I thought. She only grabs that when she's about to go to bed and doesn't want something heavy to weigh her down. "He's definitely behind the funding. I've almost got it tracked down but if I can't find the paper trail, he's going to walk."

She shakes her head and downs the rest of the drink in a couple long pulls. "If it's there, you'll find it." She tosses the bottle into the trash and slips off her shoes next to the door. I take in the long lines of her back, still lithely muscled after the years we've known each other. Probably came in handy that time she had to crawl in the drop ceiling to display how little security there actually was around that secure room. 

"C'mon, Princess, sit with me on the couch for a bit." Fuck, that sounds amazing. I slide into my usual spot, the remote tossed haphazardly on the end table next to me. I don't reach for it. I'd rather concentrate on everything about her than fill the air with mindless TV. She drops heavily on the couch next to me, her arm raising over my head to curl around my shoulders and pull me closer to her. I can smell the faintly spicy scent of her body soap, still clinging to her skin. The recycled air of the plane did little to detract from it. My heart pounds in my chest at the closeness and my mind repeats, over and over again, the mantra I've been reciting all week. We're just friends.

She sighs, releasing the last of her tension as she relaxes beneath me. My head is resting against her shoulder, my fingers lightly splayed across her thigh. A low hum sounds from her and she speaks softly. "I missed you, Princess."

A flush rushes over my skin and I stammer. "I, uh, missed you too."

She chuckles against the top of my head. "You should come with me sometime. Maybe we can catch some sights between my meetings."

"You know just what to say to charm a lady."

She laughs outright and shifts beneath me. My fingers slide across the fabric of her pants, the soft material not hiding the heat of her skin at all. Her arm around my shoulders tightens and releases. "You're adorable."

I lift my head and look at her. Her face is open, tiredness and relaxation removing any barriers she might have had. The affection staring back at me makes the breath catch in my lungs. I need to get away. "It's late. You're probably more tired than I am."

Her other hand raises from her side and comes up to cup my cheek. I must look like an idiot, staring at her. I have no idea what is showing on my face, but whatever it is, it doesn't deter her. "You're probably right." Her thumb traces over my cheek. "I'm not particularly tired just yet." The tiredness that had been painting her features is chased away, replaced with a curious look that I can't identify for the life of me. My hand on her thigh is firmer, pressing into the solid muscle and supporting myself in this new position. I can feel a tension running through her. My tongue darts out to wet my lips. Her darkened gaze drops to watch and slowly returns to meet my own. There's a fire there that I dare not identify.

"What are you doing?" I meant that to come out as a serious question, maybe playful. Something to let us pull back from this precipice. What came out was fluttering, breathless and tinged with desperation. 

She drops her gaze back down to my lips, then a broad grin stretches across her face. Her eyes sparkle in the soft light of my apartment. Her hand against my cheek draws me closer, and I lean in without thought. "I was thinking..." Her thumb traces against my lower lip. A tremble races through my spine. "It's time to find out where this takes us."

She leans in and softly presses her lips to mine, her warm hand against my cheek holding me in exactly the spot I wish to be. Her arm around me remains solid and protective, an embrace I've ached for. Her touch is so much more than I've dreamed and imagined. The world is still around us, accentuating the vicious thrumming of my blood in my ears. It's when her tongue begins to probe at my lips that I can no longer control myself and a soft, low, downright filthy moan escapes from me. She chuckles against my mouth and murmurs quietly, soft words that make my hand clench her thigh in a fierce rush of possessiveness. 

"We've got all the time in the world, Princess." Then she kisses me again and I'm lost in a way I had never dared to hope to be. 

I don't think we're just friends anymore.


End file.
